i met an owl outside my window.
who, who are you to stay gone so long?
i've been drifting in eyes like the waters of my dreams,
don't wake me. please, don't wake me.
the night is long but so is its ending.
his words, they soothe and mend,
a cerebral cure for an unquiet mind.
day will come. day will come.
the owl hears me too, i know.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Spruce Boards and Love
It begins in a moment. In this moment, my soul is reborn into the physical world from an alternate life that is neither ending nor beginning, but somewhere along the way from 'here' to 'there'. Yet I can't really say, for there are no words to describe the experience of being reborn, for who among us can really remember it? There is no memory, there are only reminders. The reminders are songs, and the music that carries them. Music transcends time, and proves to me that so do I. It is divine and it is my true home.
My father had a record collection that he had taken with him when he and my mother moved to Nova Scotia in 1975 from Quincy, Massachusetts. He listen to The Yardbirds, The Doors, The Rolling Stones, Otis Redding, Chuck Berry, Santana and most of the more popular bands of that era. When I was two (1984) our family television broke and, since there was no way to replace it immediately my three older brothers (aged 9,7, and 5) took to listening to Dad's records as a means of entertainment. He would come home from work to find them hopping around the living room to the sounds of Eric Clapton and Carlos Santana. Though I have no memory of this, I know that these were the sounds of my environment, and I am where as a child I always wanted to be - with my brothers. So there I am, before time in its linear form has grabbed a hold of my consciousness.
My early exposure to music, I think, helps explain the existence of a memory I have. Somewhere in time I am four years old and sitting on the floor in the room my brothers shared, where the family's only 'boom box' was kept. In it there is a tape that I keep rewinding so I can hear a song. This time it belongs to my mother, who has always sung in our church's choir. The tape is one that she has been given and the song is "Children of the Light", and it is the voices of children and it is so beautiful that I have to hear it again. And so I play it over and over, and as I grow and continue to move through this life it continues to play until it becomes the soundtrack of my soul, only I am not aware of this until thsi very moment, for there are other things that happen and take me away from this joy but, blessed friend that Time is, she allows me to go back and start again with this awareness, and so I do. And so I am.
I am six, and in school. My teacher brings us next door where we join the Grade 2s (I am in Grade 1) so we can practice for the Spring Concert. We will sing "Inch by Inch, Row by Row", and I am sitting and I can feel the hard scratchiness of the floor as I steady myself with one hand, sharing the words with a friend. In my mind, though, the lyrics take me to the garden in our yard at home, where I live with my dad as we plant rows of seeds and watch them grow, all summer long. He hands me the seeds and I know what to do, and we are as silent as the trees that surround us. How does this song know? I am not sure. Mrs. Beaton sits at her keyboard and, for a moment, as always, Time is still. My heart is at home.
I am eight, and we are driving from Cape Breton to upstate New York for my uncle's wedding. There is another brother on the scene now, and I am outnumbered 4 to 1. Not terrible odds, but not exactly great either. My oldest brother has control of the radio. He is fifteen and of course unsure of himself, but knows that music helps. He is not sure why, but he knows it helps. He has a friend he sits with at the back of the school bus who has long fluffy hair and names of heavy metal bands scratched into the back of his faded jean vest that he cut the arms off because he must have just felt like it. There are names like AC/DC and Anthrax, Metallica and Black Sabbath. My dad is driving, and they are talking about music, about what is good and what is not, and they both wished the radio station back home would 'turn up the good and turn down the suck', or something like that (Fubar). Finally they find a station they both like and it plays "Walk on the Wild Side" by Lou Reed and "Into the Great Wide Open" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and everyone is happy. Time is telling us something through these sounds that surround us, and for an eternity, we listen. We are still listening and loving, and it is continuous and beautiful and it never ends. It's as if those songs are on repeat, and no one wants to press stop. Not now, not ever. Time is blessed.
I am eleven and I see my first movie 'in theatre'. It is called 'The Lion King' and I am glad I am eleven and can process everything that is happening, and I thank Time for her infinite wisdom that kept me away for all those years. The music, more than anything, stays with me. "The Circle of Life" is perhaps the most profound piece of wisdom any of us can be given, and even better if we have the awareness to accept it as such. I didn't then but Time, again, has allowed me to go back and see it all again. And so that's the way it always was, and so that's the way it will always be. first compact disc I ever owned was the soundtrack to that film, and like every other song I have heard before or since, has become the soundtrack to this wonderful life that I find myself moving through.
By now, 1993, the family has graduated from its one lonely boom box and advanced to the technology of the day - my parents buy a stereo system with a five disc CD player, tape deck, tuner and radio, with speakers encased in faux wood, but still beautiful. When my parents aren't home, and even when they are, my brothers crank the Rolling Stones or Led Zeppelin, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Band, The Doors, or whatever they felt like hearing. The house shakes with the vibrations I feel every time I hear "Satisfaction" or "Kashmere". I tell you, there is nothing more comforting than music moving through walls made of spruce boards that have been aged with love, another generous gift that Time has bestowed upon me. And with me. Through me. Around me. I am there right now, and so are you. Are you happy to be here? I am. Continue with me, Friend. I am not quite done yet.
Eventually I leave my physical home for a new home, for University. I have my own dinky little CD player now and a measly collection of albums, but they are mine. I have Joni Mitchell and Lou Reed, Deana Carter and Janis Joplin, Bob Marley and TLC. I am as unsure of myself as anyone has ever been, not knowing anything but feeling everything all at once. I dream of writing and falling in love, but most of all I want to lighten their burden. My parents are struggling and it is hard to watch, hard to feel and hard to process in a way that is manageable. I leave, not really knowing what to say to the new people I must meet, thinking surely they will not be interested in anything I have to say? I leave, equipped with the music that holds the secrets of my very existence. At least I know THIS.
Here is where Time continues to be Kind. What else can Time be? I make friends through my music. They sit on my bed and we listen, they pour over the titles and they are excited because they have the same, or something similar. I find myself talking, something I do not expect. I assume that I would just stay quiet and watch, as I have always done. Time, though, has other ideas, and so I let her lead me. She is my guide and so I follow Her. She is knowing and so am I, for we can never be disconnected. Life is beautiful. And so is Death.
She leads me to a boy. A beautiful, brilliant boy who sits down and speaks his truth so honestly that I can not help but fall in love. He is unafraid of his voice, and there I sit paralyzed with fear because even though I have all these friends and am getting better at letting people know me I keep most of myself hidden. I file myself away and don't realize it until this very moment, when I hear his words and his voice goes right to my soul. Time tells me that I've heard it before, and she tells me to know more. I want to know more.
He likes me because I like Bob Marley and Jimi Hendrix. I tell how The Cure reminds me of my oldest brother and he listens, and it is beautiful to be heard. He plays and sound of his fingers moving across the fret board teaches me something new about music, which teaches me something about Time. Time is Life in the acoustic guitar, and the vibrations are glorious. I am home in a room made possible by spruce boards and love. And so I love him for taking me there. And he loves me. But Time has a plan. It is not what you think. It is much better. A profound gift. There is lots to know about love, you know. Time knows, and so do I, but only because I let Her teach me.
There is pain. He tells me stories and I feel the impact of their truth. My soul hurts. How? I know. A soul hurts because it doesn't know. Sometimes,it just doesn't know beauty and joy. It cannot find comfort and so it starts to fade, but the light never dies. the light can never die because as much as it knows of pain it knows that it can exist beyond it. Souls can withstand the bruises and travel to new and tremendous places. They can just go, and leave the sorrow behind. Souls can fly, look back, and wonder. Wonder at their own power. A power granted by Time, for Time and of Time. Out of Love. A musical love. Love is musical. He teaches me this, he who feels forgotten by it completely and it is a miracle. He teaches me about Love and I love him for it.
We are friends and I am blessed. He has to go, though. His Time and my Time are the same, but different. We separate but we will find each other again. My brother, I miss you. Can I tell you how I miss you? I miss your joy. I miss your presence. I miss the music you make, I miss your words. We will meet again though, Friend. If not in this life then in another one, for ours is a friendly bond that can't be broken. Forgive me? I forgive you. I will find you in song. Don't worry Love, I will find you in song. Time will make sure of it.
He leaves, and my soul hurts. It hurts for the souls of children who find themselves in pain after Time has played a seemingly cruel joke on them. It hurts because they will only only pain. How can I help them know more? To see beyond the sorrow and find joy, to one day say to Time Thank You for being so Kind. What can I do? WHAT CAN I DO? I have to do something. I something I can do. For them. For me. For him. For everyone. For souls existing right now. It is up to me. IT IS UP TO ME.
I think I stop the music, but it keeps going. It is going in my mind so fast that I can't hear it. It isn't frightening, but it has to stop. I call home and ask for help. And Time helps my mother know what to do. I meet her, and we ride together for an eternity. I see them all, and they are waiting for me. Famous families who make music, the future King of the entire world. It should be my dad, he's the real king. What an unjust world, not making my dad king. Where are you taking me? I don't want to go. I want to talk Bono first, please. You fucking morons, you know nothing. I have all the answers, just listen to me. Andrew, go get Michael. Go listen to the songs, you know the ones. Listen, and you will know. Smoke a joint, and you will know. You will know. You will know. You will know.
I wake up, and I know. I knwo I am in a hospital, and it is white all over. The ceiling, the walls, the floors, the sheets. I am surrounded by white, and it hurts my eyes. There is a nurse, now. Telling me to shower. I go through the motions, not understanding. I can't understand anything. And I am numb. What is happening? My thoughts feel like someone else's. I can't recognize them. I have memories of what may have happened, but my mind will not let me process them. How did I get here? And how do I get out? Not too fast, Time says. Slow down, Time says. You're moving through me too fast, Time says. It is not the speed at which you are meant to travel, dear one. You need to stop. Go home, and I will reveal it all to you. Go home, and simply be. Be in the rooms made possible by spruce boards and Love. Walk down the road that has always led you home, and will continue to lead you to Life and Love and Joy and all that I have made for you. Go home, and listen. Listen to the hymns of your childhood, the music of your soul. Listen, and be free.
You are bipolar, they tell me. You had what we call a manic episode, they say. Watch this video. See? This is YOU. This is who you are now. Don't worry, though. We have pills. You need to take them. Lithium will be your saving word, or all will be lost to you. Forever. Too much for you? It will take time. In time, you will understand. In time, you will see. Your parents are terrified, but they shouldn't be. We know. We have your answers. Trust us.
Time sends me a true saviour. She sends me Father. He prays, and I feel her presence. She is with me, she is with us. We three of us know. We three of us have the same truth, and it is not this one. It is not this fallacious label the world has flung at me because it does not understand Time, and it does not understand Love. Father knows, though. And Father believes. And so he prays, and I am comforted. He reveals a truth that my soul has always known and will continue to know. And now I know. Somewhere, someone is playing the guitar. She plays Amazing Grace and the beauty in the sounds reinforces my healing. We sit, her and I and the others, the other forgotten souls who know too much of the world that the world has become uncomfortable with their knowledge. We sit, and we listen. The music is magic. The music is Love. The music is Time. The music is Life.
She knows, and so do I. I leave this place for home and stay for an eternity. The world says I stayed for four years, and now I am here. I am here, and I am free. I am Life and I am Love and I am Joy and I am content to stay here. To move through Time at a pace that has already been predetermined by my soul. It tells me how to move and where to go, it takes me to places of profound beauty that leave me weeping. It brings me to friends that it has known for thousands of years. It tells me to teach. Teach what you know.
Teach what you know.
Life is Time and Time is Life and we are all Eternal. Music tells us this.
Eternal Life is upon us, Friends. Music is alive.
My father had a record collection that he had taken with him when he and my mother moved to Nova Scotia in 1975 from Quincy, Massachusetts. He listen to The Yardbirds, The Doors, The Rolling Stones, Otis Redding, Chuck Berry, Santana and most of the more popular bands of that era. When I was two (1984) our family television broke and, since there was no way to replace it immediately my three older brothers (aged 9,7, and 5) took to listening to Dad's records as a means of entertainment. He would come home from work to find them hopping around the living room to the sounds of Eric Clapton and Carlos Santana. Though I have no memory of this, I know that these were the sounds of my environment, and I am where as a child I always wanted to be - with my brothers. So there I am, before time in its linear form has grabbed a hold of my consciousness.
My early exposure to music, I think, helps explain the existence of a memory I have. Somewhere in time I am four years old and sitting on the floor in the room my brothers shared, where the family's only 'boom box' was kept. In it there is a tape that I keep rewinding so I can hear a song. This time it belongs to my mother, who has always sung in our church's choir. The tape is one that she has been given and the song is "Children of the Light", and it is the voices of children and it is so beautiful that I have to hear it again. And so I play it over and over, and as I grow and continue to move through this life it continues to play until it becomes the soundtrack of my soul, only I am not aware of this until thsi very moment, for there are other things that happen and take me away from this joy but, blessed friend that Time is, she allows me to go back and start again with this awareness, and so I do. And so I am.
I am six, and in school. My teacher brings us next door where we join the Grade 2s (I am in Grade 1) so we can practice for the Spring Concert. We will sing "Inch by Inch, Row by Row", and I am sitting and I can feel the hard scratchiness of the floor as I steady myself with one hand, sharing the words with a friend. In my mind, though, the lyrics take me to the garden in our yard at home, where I live with my dad as we plant rows of seeds and watch them grow, all summer long. He hands me the seeds and I know what to do, and we are as silent as the trees that surround us. How does this song know? I am not sure. Mrs. Beaton sits at her keyboard and, for a moment, as always, Time is still. My heart is at home.
I am eight, and we are driving from Cape Breton to upstate New York for my uncle's wedding. There is another brother on the scene now, and I am outnumbered 4 to 1. Not terrible odds, but not exactly great either. My oldest brother has control of the radio. He is fifteen and of course unsure of himself, but knows that music helps. He is not sure why, but he knows it helps. He has a friend he sits with at the back of the school bus who has long fluffy hair and names of heavy metal bands scratched into the back of his faded jean vest that he cut the arms off because he must have just felt like it. There are names like AC/DC and Anthrax, Metallica and Black Sabbath. My dad is driving, and they are talking about music, about what is good and what is not, and they both wished the radio station back home would 'turn up the good and turn down the suck', or something like that (Fubar). Finally they find a station they both like and it plays "Walk on the Wild Side" by Lou Reed and "Into the Great Wide Open" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and everyone is happy. Time is telling us something through these sounds that surround us, and for an eternity, we listen. We are still listening and loving, and it is continuous and beautiful and it never ends. It's as if those songs are on repeat, and no one wants to press stop. Not now, not ever. Time is blessed.
I am eleven and I see my first movie 'in theatre'. It is called 'The Lion King' and I am glad I am eleven and can process everything that is happening, and I thank Time for her infinite wisdom that kept me away for all those years. The music, more than anything, stays with me. "The Circle of Life" is perhaps the most profound piece of wisdom any of us can be given, and even better if we have the awareness to accept it as such. I didn't then but Time, again, has allowed me to go back and see it all again. And so that's the way it always was, and so that's the way it will always be. first compact disc I ever owned was the soundtrack to that film, and like every other song I have heard before or since, has become the soundtrack to this wonderful life that I find myself moving through.
By now, 1993, the family has graduated from its one lonely boom box and advanced to the technology of the day - my parents buy a stereo system with a five disc CD player, tape deck, tuner and radio, with speakers encased in faux wood, but still beautiful. When my parents aren't home, and even when they are, my brothers crank the Rolling Stones or Led Zeppelin, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Band, The Doors, or whatever they felt like hearing. The house shakes with the vibrations I feel every time I hear "Satisfaction" or "Kashmere". I tell you, there is nothing more comforting than music moving through walls made of spruce boards that have been aged with love, another generous gift that Time has bestowed upon me. And with me. Through me. Around me. I am there right now, and so are you. Are you happy to be here? I am. Continue with me, Friend. I am not quite done yet.
Eventually I leave my physical home for a new home, for University. I have my own dinky little CD player now and a measly collection of albums, but they are mine. I have Joni Mitchell and Lou Reed, Deana Carter and Janis Joplin, Bob Marley and TLC. I am as unsure of myself as anyone has ever been, not knowing anything but feeling everything all at once. I dream of writing and falling in love, but most of all I want to lighten their burden. My parents are struggling and it is hard to watch, hard to feel and hard to process in a way that is manageable. I leave, not really knowing what to say to the new people I must meet, thinking surely they will not be interested in anything I have to say? I leave, equipped with the music that holds the secrets of my very existence. At least I know THIS.
Here is where Time continues to be Kind. What else can Time be? I make friends through my music. They sit on my bed and we listen, they pour over the titles and they are excited because they have the same, or something similar. I find myself talking, something I do not expect. I assume that I would just stay quiet and watch, as I have always done. Time, though, has other ideas, and so I let her lead me. She is my guide and so I follow Her. She is knowing and so am I, for we can never be disconnected. Life is beautiful. And so is Death.
She leads me to a boy. A beautiful, brilliant boy who sits down and speaks his truth so honestly that I can not help but fall in love. He is unafraid of his voice, and there I sit paralyzed with fear because even though I have all these friends and am getting better at letting people know me I keep most of myself hidden. I file myself away and don't realize it until this very moment, when I hear his words and his voice goes right to my soul. Time tells me that I've heard it before, and she tells me to know more. I want to know more.
He likes me because I like Bob Marley and Jimi Hendrix. I tell how The Cure reminds me of my oldest brother and he listens, and it is beautiful to be heard. He plays and sound of his fingers moving across the fret board teaches me something new about music, which teaches me something about Time. Time is Life in the acoustic guitar, and the vibrations are glorious. I am home in a room made possible by spruce boards and love. And so I love him for taking me there. And he loves me. But Time has a plan. It is not what you think. It is much better. A profound gift. There is lots to know about love, you know. Time knows, and so do I, but only because I let Her teach me.
There is pain. He tells me stories and I feel the impact of their truth. My soul hurts. How? I know. A soul hurts because it doesn't know. Sometimes,it just doesn't know beauty and joy. It cannot find comfort and so it starts to fade, but the light never dies. the light can never die because as much as it knows of pain it knows that it can exist beyond it. Souls can withstand the bruises and travel to new and tremendous places. They can just go, and leave the sorrow behind. Souls can fly, look back, and wonder. Wonder at their own power. A power granted by Time, for Time and of Time. Out of Love. A musical love. Love is musical. He teaches me this, he who feels forgotten by it completely and it is a miracle. He teaches me about Love and I love him for it.
We are friends and I am blessed. He has to go, though. His Time and my Time are the same, but different. We separate but we will find each other again. My brother, I miss you. Can I tell you how I miss you? I miss your joy. I miss your presence. I miss the music you make, I miss your words. We will meet again though, Friend. If not in this life then in another one, for ours is a friendly bond that can't be broken. Forgive me? I forgive you. I will find you in song. Don't worry Love, I will find you in song. Time will make sure of it.
He leaves, and my soul hurts. It hurts for the souls of children who find themselves in pain after Time has played a seemingly cruel joke on them. It hurts because they will only only pain. How can I help them know more? To see beyond the sorrow and find joy, to one day say to Time Thank You for being so Kind. What can I do? WHAT CAN I DO? I have to do something. I something I can do. For them. For me. For him. For everyone. For souls existing right now. It is up to me. IT IS UP TO ME.
I think I stop the music, but it keeps going. It is going in my mind so fast that I can't hear it. It isn't frightening, but it has to stop. I call home and ask for help. And Time helps my mother know what to do. I meet her, and we ride together for an eternity. I see them all, and they are waiting for me. Famous families who make music, the future King of the entire world. It should be my dad, he's the real king. What an unjust world, not making my dad king. Where are you taking me? I don't want to go. I want to talk Bono first, please. You fucking morons, you know nothing. I have all the answers, just listen to me. Andrew, go get Michael. Go listen to the songs, you know the ones. Listen, and you will know. Smoke a joint, and you will know. You will know. You will know. You will know.
I wake up, and I know. I knwo I am in a hospital, and it is white all over. The ceiling, the walls, the floors, the sheets. I am surrounded by white, and it hurts my eyes. There is a nurse, now. Telling me to shower. I go through the motions, not understanding. I can't understand anything. And I am numb. What is happening? My thoughts feel like someone else's. I can't recognize them. I have memories of what may have happened, but my mind will not let me process them. How did I get here? And how do I get out? Not too fast, Time says. Slow down, Time says. You're moving through me too fast, Time says. It is not the speed at which you are meant to travel, dear one. You need to stop. Go home, and I will reveal it all to you. Go home, and simply be. Be in the rooms made possible by spruce boards and Love. Walk down the road that has always led you home, and will continue to lead you to Life and Love and Joy and all that I have made for you. Go home, and listen. Listen to the hymns of your childhood, the music of your soul. Listen, and be free.
You are bipolar, they tell me. You had what we call a manic episode, they say. Watch this video. See? This is YOU. This is who you are now. Don't worry, though. We have pills. You need to take them. Lithium will be your saving word, or all will be lost to you. Forever. Too much for you? It will take time. In time, you will understand. In time, you will see. Your parents are terrified, but they shouldn't be. We know. We have your answers. Trust us.
Time sends me a true saviour. She sends me Father. He prays, and I feel her presence. She is with me, she is with us. We three of us know. We three of us have the same truth, and it is not this one. It is not this fallacious label the world has flung at me because it does not understand Time, and it does not understand Love. Father knows, though. And Father believes. And so he prays, and I am comforted. He reveals a truth that my soul has always known and will continue to know. And now I know. Somewhere, someone is playing the guitar. She plays Amazing Grace and the beauty in the sounds reinforces my healing. We sit, her and I and the others, the other forgotten souls who know too much of the world that the world has become uncomfortable with their knowledge. We sit, and we listen. The music is magic. The music is Love. The music is Time. The music is Life.
She knows, and so do I. I leave this place for home and stay for an eternity. The world says I stayed for four years, and now I am here. I am here, and I am free. I am Life and I am Love and I am Joy and I am content to stay here. To move through Time at a pace that has already been predetermined by my soul. It tells me how to move and where to go, it takes me to places of profound beauty that leave me weeping. It brings me to friends that it has known for thousands of years. It tells me to teach. Teach what you know.
Teach what you know.
Life is Time and Time is Life and we are all Eternal. Music tells us this.
Eternal Life is upon us, Friends. Music is alive.
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